Chapter 157: Goodbye, Arturo

Alexander received the message from their reunion committee shortly after lunch.

Wake of Mr. Arturo Velarde—details to follow.

He stared at the message for several seconds, then immediately called Giovanni.

Giovanni answered after the second ring.

"You got the message?"

"Yes."

Alexander fell silent.

So did Giovanni.

For several seconds, all Alexander could hear was his breathing on the other end.

Giovanni didn’t let many people get close enough to become deeply attached, but Arturo Velarde had somehow become one of them.

Arturo had been more than a mentor.

Matteo Mercer had loved his son, but deciding on investing in a business had consumed much of his time when Giovanni was young. Arturo had quietly filled some of those gaps without ever trying to take Matteo’s place.

He taught Giovanni things that had absolutely nothing to do with running a company.

Sculpture.

Carpentry and basic woodworking.

How to build a fire when there was no stove available. How to find a safe water source. How to recognize which crops and wild plants could be eaten and which ones were better left alone.

At the time, Giovanni hadn’t understood why a boy who graduated valedictorian needed to know half of those things.

Arturo’s answer had always been simple.

Money could buy convenience.

It couldn’t guarantee that convenience would always be available.

Giovanni remembered it even now.

Arturo had no surviving relatives. He’d lived alone for years, yet he’d stubbornly refused every suggestion that he move somewhere more comfortable or leave the school behind.

The school was his family.

That was enough for him.

Giovanni had occasionally offered financial help over the years, but Arturo accepted only what he genuinely needed.

Nevermore.

He’d refused to become anyone’s charity case, including Giovanni Mercer’s.

"I plan to visit him tonight," Giovanni finally said. "Would you like to come?"

"Of course."

Alexander glanced toward the window. He was still at the Vance ancestral home, where preparations for Second Life Workshop’s temporary facility were underway.

"I’ll meet you there. It’ll take too long if we try to go together from here."

"All right."

"What should we bring?"

"I don’t know yet." Giovanni paused. "He didn’t have any family, so I’m not even sure who’s handling the arrangements."

Alexander understood the concern immediately.

"Then we’ll figure it out when we get there."

"Eight?"

"I’ll be there."

That evening, Arturo’s small home was brighter than Alexander had ever seen it.

Several tents stood outside, with rows of chairs and tables filling what little open space was available. Cars lined the nearby street, and people continued arriving in small groups.

The reunion committee was already there in full force.

"Glad you came," Elena said when she spotted them.

Giovanni nodded.

"Who arranged all this?"

"We did. There was still money left from the reunion fund, and everyone agreed we should use part of it for Arturo."

Giovanni looked around.

"Thank you."

Elena seemed to understand that those two words carried considerably more weight than usual.

"You can go inside."

Alexander followed Giovanni into the house.

Arturo lay inside his coffin, surrounded by flowers.

Giovanni stopped.

For a while, he simply looked at him.

Arturo had grown frail in his final years, but something peaceful sat on his face now.

That seemed appropriate.

He’d been much the same while alive.

Calm.

Good-natured.

The sort of man who could teach an impatient teenager how to carve wood without once raising his voice when said teenager ruined the same piece three times.

Giovanni stepped closer to the coffin.

Alexander remained behind him.

Whatever Giovanni wanted to say to Arturo was his to say.

He didn’t need an audience.

Eventually, Giovanni lowered his head.

"Thank you, sir."

Nothing more.

He stayed there another moment before stepping aside.

Alexander approached next and quietly paid his respects.

By the time they returned outside, even more people had arrived.

Alexander looked around and realized something.

For a man who had supposedly died without any immediate family, Arturo Velarde had somehow left behind an enormous one.

Former students came.

Current students came.

School officials, both former and present, followed, along with teachers, maintenance workers, security personnel, and other staff members who had worked alongside Arturo over the years.

Then there were people Alexander didn’t recognize at all but who clearly knew Arturo well enough to grieve him.

Arturo hadn’t been a professor or some celebrated administrator whose name appeared on school programs and plaques. He’d been the caretaker, the maintenance man, and the general handyman. The person people called when something broke, needed fixing, or a student inevitably got into trouble somewhere they weren’t supposed to be.

Apparently, decades of being that person had made Arturo part of more lives than anyone had bothered to count.

Some brought food.

Others brought flowers.

Several quietly handed envelopes to members of the reunion committee.

The committee eventually gathered for a short meeting to settle the remaining funeral arrangements. They discussed the available options, considered the costs, and put the necessary decisions to a vote. They carefully recorded cash and in-kind donations, and the committee promised to account for everything afterward.

Arturo might not have had children or surviving relatives to arrange his funeral.

He had hundreds of former students willing to do it instead.

When everything had been settled for the evening, Alexander and Giovanni prepared to leave.

"Elena," Giovanni said, "let me know if Arturo needs anything else."

Elena looked at him for a moment.

She seemed to recognize that Giovanni wasn’t really talking about Arturo anymore.

The man in the coffin no longer needed anything.

But there were still funeral expenses to cover, arrangements to complete, and people making sure he was properly laid to rest.

"I will," she said softly.

Giovanni nodded.

They would return in three days.

The funeral procession was considerably longer than Alexander expected.

A black hearse carrying Arturo’s coffin led the way, followed immediately by the car carrying Giovanni and Alexander. Behind them came one vehicle after another filled with former students, current and retired school staff, old friends, and people whose lives Arturo had touched somewhere along the way.

There were so many that Alexander couldn’t see the end of the procession from where he sat.

Giovanni barely spoke during the drive.

Alexander didn’t force him to.

At the cemetery, they stood together through the final blessing.

Then came the hardest part.

The coffin was lowered.

The grave was closed.

Eventually, there was nothing left to do but stand before the newly placed marker bearing the name:

ARTURO VELARDE

Seventy-eight years.

Giovanni stared at it for a long time.

Then he stepped forward with a single long-stemmed red rose.

Arturo’s favorite.

He placed it carefully against the grave.

"Goodbye, sir."

Alexander stood a few steps behind him.

This time, he didn’t move forward immediately.

Giovanni had lost enough people in his life.

His father.

His mother.

And now one of the few men who had helped guide him through the years between being Matteo Mercer’s son and becoming the man expected to carry everything Matteo had left behind.

Alexander gave him the time he needed.

Eventually, Giovanni turned around.

"Ready?" Alexander asked.

Giovanni looked back at Arturo’s grave one last time.

"Yes."

Alexander invited Giovanni to dinner at the Vance ancestral home rather than letting him return to an empty house after the funeral.

"There are vacant rooms," Alexander added as Elias drove. "You can stay overnight."

Giovanni glanced at him.

"Are you inviting me to sleep over at your parents’ house?"

"When you say it like that, it sounds scandalous."

"I’m considering my reputation."

Alexander snorted.

"What reputation?"

That finally earned him a smile.

"I’ll stay. I was hoping you’d invite me, so I brought a change of clothes. Elias placed my travel bag at the trunk earlier."

"Very smart."

By dinner, the heaviness surrounding Giovanni hadn’t disappeared, but it had softened enough that conversation came more easily.

Alexander told him about the progress at Second Life Workshop’s temporary facility.

The workers had chosen to stay. Better yet, they’d volunteered to help rehabilitate the warehouse and bunkhouse rather than accept wages during the temporary stoppage without working.

The damaged workshop itself was another matter.

Insurance and clearance were still pending, so reconstruction couldn’t begin yet.

However, progress was being made elsewhere.

"The architect you recommended should have the final plans ready next week," Alexander said.

"The female architect."

Alexander gave him a look.

"Yes, Gio. Your carefully selected female architect."

"Good."

Alexander laughed.

The new restoration floor would be designed differently from the old one. Concrete, steel, and other more durable materials would separate the active work area from the restored wooden house Alexander intended to preserve as the public-facing portion of the business.

Once the plans were finalized, the next obstacle would be permits.

After that, construction could finally begin.

"Do you need anything else?" Giovanni asked.

Alexander considered it.

"Not at the moment."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. But don’t worry. If I find another problem requiring someone of your particular caliber, you’ll be the first person I call."

Alexander winked.

Giovanni smiled back.

"I’m glad I’ve found my purpose."

"You have many purposes."

"Apparently."

Elias feigned that he heard nothing. His eyes were focused on the road.

The conversation moved on, but Alexander noticed that Giovanni seemed a little lighter than he’d been at the cemetery.

That was enough.

Tonight wasn’t going to erase his grief.

It wasn’t supposed to.

Arturo had spent years teaching Giovanni how to work with his hands, survive without conveniences, and make something useful from whatever happened to be available.

Maybe that was why Alexander suspected Arturo would’ve approved of what Giovanni was doing now.

He was grieving.

But tomorrow, he’d keep going.

Just as Arturo had taught him.